


Eventually The Birds Must Land

by nancymoron



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Human Experimentation, Kamukura Izuru Is Bad At Feelings, Manipulation, Medical Trauma, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Not Canon Compliant, POV Kamukura Izuru, Panic Attacks, Pre-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Suicidal Thoughts, Warning: Enoshima Junko
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27110878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nancymoron/pseuds/nancymoron
Summary: It’s not that he’s not treated well. They feed him, of course, and Kamukura has known for as long as he can remember that they are trying to cure him, and that his body will be the vessel of humanity’s greatest hope. He appreciates this, even if it does sound a little religious for his tastes, but selfishly he wishes that he wasn’t sick. If he wasn’t sick, wasn’t diseased, perhaps they would let him go outside. He has heard stories of the outside world, and truth be told he used to yearn for it. His room has curtains, but no window.Kamukura discards this train of thought. He does not yearn anymore.For Enoshima to grant Kamukura the gift of true despair, she first needs to remind him how to hope.
Relationships: Enoshima Junko & Kamukura Izuru, Ikusaba Mukuro & Kamukura Izuru
Comments: 16
Kudos: 26





	Eventually The Birds Must Land

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! here's my fucking behemoth. i didn't expect this to get as long as it is so far but here we are, i guess. this fic truly can be considered hatemail to dr3 because i hate how they wrote izuru completely out of character and i'm here to fix it. i think junko and izuru's relationship is a lot more fucked up than it was in the anime, so here we go. here's a fic about junko ruining izuru's life. i'm very excited for this, so please give me feedback! i live for comments so let me know if you liked it or even if you didn't like it! just give me feedback lol. also i think mukuro deserves appreciation :) 
> 
> fair warnings for talk about what happened to izuru during the kamukura project, and uh... junko. i love that the tag "warning: enoshima junko" exists because... oof. warning: enoshima junko. here's junko, manipulating snake. izuru, i'm so sorry.

It is difficult to tell the time in a room with no windows, but Kamukura manages as best he can. He measures everything by how long it’ll be before he’s medicated again, or how long it’ll be until he’s taken away again for the next operation. There are no clocks where he is being kept. By his own estimate, he has been here for three years, maybe four, and he has never seen one. He knows that they exist, of course. Oftentimes he theorises on what they might look like, these strange contraptions that tell the time.

He lays in bed, fiddling with the hem of his hospital gown. He has been sedated twice today, which means that it is late, and Kamukura knows that the next dosage will be due soon. Something has changed, recently. They never used to keep him so out of it for so long, but perhaps they have finally realised they have no use for him. Kamukura isn’t capable of caring anymore. When it inevitably comes, he won’t fight it. He’ll just let the sleep take him, because no matter how hard he throws the one holding the needle, they will not kill him. 

Kamukura used to spend his every waking minute thinking about fate. Every second of every day, he would devise increasingly arbitrary plans to kill himself and wondering when he’d finally get the opportunity to try it. Death, to him, was peace in and of itself; true heaven. Ceasing to exist, ceasing to suffer… He would dream of it, sometimes. It was the only thing he had ever wanted. He does not think about it anymore. He does not covet it anymore. He cannot die. He cannot make them kill him. Kamukura will die in this room, of course, he has no doubt about that, but it will not be for a very, very long time. If he was forced to guess, he would say that he is around eighteen years old, or maybe nineteen. He’s young. He fully believes that his life will be prolonged indefinitely. 

It’s not that he’s not treated well. They feed him, of course, and Kamukura has known for as long as he can remember that they are trying to cure him, and that his body will be the vessel of humanity’s greatest hope. He appreciates this, even if it does sound a little religious for his tastes, but selfishly he wishes that he wasn’t sick. If he wasn’t sick, wasn’t diseased, perhaps they would let him go outside. He has heard stories of the outside world, and truth be told he used to yearn for it. His room has curtains, but no window. 

Kamukura discards this train of thought. He does not yearn anymore.

It feels like he has spent the entirety of his short existence waiting. It’s come to the point where he is excited for the prospect of being sedated, because the door will open again and something will actually happen for once, and then he won’t be able to think anymore. Once, he had hated this feeling. It’s welcome these days, because he’s too exhausted with his own existence to really care. It will never end. He will never die. He continues to wait.

He used to do things, at least. He used to have teachers instead of doctors, and every day they would test him on a new talent. Kamukura had thought it was boring at the time, but the truth is that he just didn’t know how good he had it. He has been sedated 461 times since his last lesson, and he remembers that day as clear as if it was yesterday. They gave him a name that day, called him Kamukura Izuru and christened him anew. It was… Nice, to finally have a name, but it felt off. He had stared into space for hours, wondering what it had meant. 

He still doesn’t know what it means. Of course, he’s heard the title Kamukura Project be bandied about more than once over the years, but that doesn’t mean anything to him. He assumes that’s what this is, but they hadn’t always called him Kamukura, so is Kamukura really him? Kamukura Izuru halts this thought process, too. It isn’t getting him anywhere and it doesn’t benefit him, so why indulge? 

The door will open soon. It always opens soon, he’s been conditioned to remember that it opens soon, and when it does he will remain still and compliant. He will behave, even if he won’t be rewarded for it. He will fall unconscious, and regardless whether or not he is awake when the next dosage comes, he will be sedated again and again and again. 

It’s little wonder that he feels increasingly lethargic. He hasn’t had a single useful thought in weeks, though he once fell out of bed and broke several stitches. He’s half tempted to start hurting himself deliberately in any way that he can for the scolding that he’ll get, but he’s not stupid. He won’t  _ get  _ scolded again, because they will recognise the action for what it is, attention seeking behaviour, and then they will likely put him in a straitjacket again. If he continues his actions, they will double the dosage of sedative, potentially put him on strong antidepressants, and then put him in a padded room. Kamukura doesn’t care, they will do as they wish to him, but he would like to think that he is not so far gone that he would wish for his own sustained discomfort. 

Kamukura is beginning to doubt himself. Is he beginning to lose his sense of time? The door should have opened by now, and yet it hasn’t. It’s a routine, they wouldn’t just stop out of nowhere… Or would they? How would Kamukura know? He sits up on the bed, frowning perhaps more deeply than he ought to. He isn’t distressed, but perhaps he could describe himself as concerned at the state of his mental acuity. 

He runs his hands through his hair, tilting his head as he stares questioningly up at the camera in his room. He has never been incorrect in his predictions before, so why now? Kamukura is good at everything, including timekeeping, so what has changed? He takes advantage of the gift of extra time and stands up, pacing about the room. His limbs feel like lead, but he _can_ move, drugs beginning to wear off. They do not like it when the drugs wear off, these days. It is… Unclear, why they would allow this to happen. 

Kamukura stretches out, feeling at least a week’s worth of tension beginning to ease up. His head hurts, but then his head always hurts. That isn’t uncommon, and he doesn’t pretend to be surprised. Nothing surprises him, anyway, so there’s no point in acting like one day something is going to happen that he never could have predicted, but something feels off, and he dislikes that he cannot place what it is. 

He is bored of thinking about it now. The irregularity of the situation was mildly entertaining for a brief moment, but he doesn’t care anymore. Kamukura has always found it difficult, through a mix of medicine and his natural state, to stay focused on something, and to remain interested in a topic. Existence bores him. This room bores him. The doctors bore him. Some days, he even bores himself. It is a unique feeling of emptiness that Kamukura has never been able to explain when requested to, and there is something fascinatingly isolating about that fact. 

  
Maybe he’ll be able to think about something useful if they have chosen to change up the established routine. More time passes, and Kamukura stares at the door like his gaze will magically blow a hole in it that he could use to escape. (Only, he doesn’t fantasise about escape, because he stopped considering that years ago.)

The door finally opens, and Kamukura watches blankly as two girls who are decidedly  _ not  _ doctors walk in like they own the place. Now, this is interesting. They look alike in facial structure and height, but that is where the similarities end. The girl that steps into the room first stands tall and proud in high heeled boots, long bubblegum pink hair kept up in twin tails. Kamukura knows instinctively that it is bleached and dyed, though he does not know how he knows this. He doesn’t question it. There’s something about her that seems immediately off, but it’s not until the other girl flicks on the ceiling light that he realises what it is. Her irises are far too big for her eyes- she’s wearing some kind of oversized contact lenses. She looks down at him with curiosity in her eyes, and Kamukura loses interest in her immediately. He looks past her, at the one guarding the door. 

They are likely identical twins. No matter how much the long haired one changes her appearance, the resemblance is uncanny. Twin number two has short black hair, and Kamukura notes that despite the fact that she seems to be wearing some kind of school uniform, she is visibly muscular. She is almost certainly hiding something beneath the gloves she’s wearing. They are made of fine leather, a clear sign that these girls come from money. The way that she warily watches Kamukura while keeping her attention on the door shows that she’s not just some normal girl, and Kamukura would be right not to underestimate her. 

“Kamukura Izuru!” Twin number one outstretches her palm in greeting, but Kamukura does not move from the bed. He looks past both twins to the space outside the opened door. He wonders what they want. “Ah, gee, tough crowd, but that’s okay!! You don’t have to shake my hand if you’re not into that kind of stuff!” The girl recovers from the rejection gracefully, clicking her fingers and pointing at him before pulling it away. “Oh, it’s so good to finally meet you! Let me tell you, I’ve dreamed of this day!” 

Kamukura does not acknowledge her. “Ah, Junko-chan, you, uh, should be careful around him! He looks a little… Dangerous, don’t you think?” Twin number two speaks with a gentle voice, quite the contrast to her already quite clearly loud and boisterous sister. Twin number one, or rather  _ Junko _ , spins on her heel and gives twin number two a look that somehow makes her take a step back, quite clearly recoiling. 

“Yeah, dangerously cool!” Junko sings, pressing her palms to her cheeks as she turns towards Kamukura once again. Twin number two lets out a sigh of relief, and if Kamukura could be bothered to give a damn, he might wonder as to the nature of their relationship. They look, in this moment, more like business partners than sisters. He still refuses to acknowledge her. He wonders what’s going on, for a brief moment, but his brain quickly supplies him with the answers, not nearly as sluggish as it was before. He’s finally regaining control of himself, and he’s pleased to note that he is indeed as sharp as ever. They have likely murdered the guards… No, not they. Twin number two is the one who has done all of the work, he sees that now. Junko does not seem to have done a single day of work in her life, but her sister, on the other hand… 

How he wishes that Junko would get to the point instead of staring at him like a fish in a bowl. She seems to think that she has already said what she needed to say, because her expression shifts, and her brows furrow. “Aren’t you, like, gonna get up?” She asks, hands on her hips. Kamukura’s red eyes train themselves on her, wondering what she’s talking about. “Oh, god, are you actually totally braindead?” Her tone is concerned, and not unkind. “We’re going! Come on, Kamukura-san.” 

This finally provokes a reaction. Kamukura blinks. “Going where?” He asks, the very idea that he could just leave and there would be no consequences a rather foreign one. 

“Uhhh, out. Outside? You know?” 

Kamukura looks away. Even if the guards have been appropriately subdued, it is not that easy to just leave like that. “I do not.” It’s not a lie, because Kamukura has never been outside, but to say that he is not playing dumb for effect would be quite the lie. Twin number two’s wary expression turns to one of pity, for a brief moment, and Kamukura spends that brief moment wondering how he feels about being viewed as being pitiable. He is unsure. 

Junko sighs deeply. “Look, I know you’ve been kept down here for for fuckin’ ever, but you can’t seriously tell me that you don’t have any self preservation left! We’re getting you outta here! Doesn’t it suck, being trapped in this shitty little room?” It does suck, as she had so eloquently put it. It sucks, but that is what life is. 

“No.” This is an answer to several questions. No, he does not believe that it sucks. No, he has no self preservation, because he doesn’t care anymore. No, he will not leave with them, because he did not ask them to go out of their way to open the door of his room. Junko lets out an exaggerated sigh, and her heels leave echoing clicks on the floor as she stalks over to the closed curtains and throws them open. 

“Fuck! They didn’t even give you a window!” She exclaims, and her twin frowns, but Kamukura does not find this information all that revelatory. Why give him a window that he could smash when it poses a risk, when he could quite easily use its shards to slit his wrists or disembowel himself? His doctors know he is broken enough. They do not want him to accrue any unnecessary damage, or worse. They need him, and they need him alive. “Doesn’t this bother you? Right, right, it doesn’t.” 

Junko perches on the end of the bed. Usually Kamukura would throw her across the room for invading his space like that, but he doesn’t care and he would like to show that he doesn’t care. Instead, he just lies down flat on his back. No matter what she says, he will not leave. There is every chance that this is just yet another test from his teachers. He has given up thinking that maybe things could be better, that there is a world outside of this room. Junko leans over him, looking down with those too-big eyes. Somehow, even with how close he is, he can’t tell what her real eye colour is. He doesn’t think they’re really blue, somehow. She’s hiding something, but it’s more than just her real appearance. 

  
“You look so stoic, baby. Are you empty, is that it?” Junko’s twin’s eyes widen, and it’s clear that she really doesn’t want to let her sister anywhere near Kamukura. She’s a smart one indeed, but despite how foolishly close she’s getting, Kamukura doesn’t like the way that Junko looks at him. These two are unusual. “I get it, I get it.” Kamukura is relatively certain that Junko does not “ _ get it.”  _ Nobody gets it, and nobody ever will. “Oh, shit! I forgot to introduce us!” She gets off of him, which he does not care about. Junko pulls her twin forward by the arm with a huge grin on her face, though the other clearly dislikes being put on the spot. “I am Enoshima Junko, High School Gyaru, and this is my sister, Mukuro. Pleased to meet you, Kamukura-san!” 

Mukuro laughs nervously, waving her hand in greeting. Now that she’s closer, Kamukura notes that she is very pretty, and has a kind, freckled face. She seems quiet and genuine, though that could quite easily be an act, too. Kamukura ignores them. They clearly already know who and what he is, so there is no point in trying to introduce himself, even if he had wanted to, which he has absolutely no interest in. He turns his back to them, to the door, knowing full well that it could be perceived as letting his guard down. If they try to kill him, he will make them suffer for it. He will not be destroyed by two teenage girls- he might not have much, but he has his pride. 

“Come on, you know who we are now, and we’re not going to hurt you, sooooo…” Junko seems full of energy, turning Kamukura over to face them. She has red acrylic nails. He lets her do it. “Can’t you trust us? We went to all this effort, and we’re such big fans… It’s not like I’m asking you to sign my tits or anything!” For the record, Kamukura thinks, he wouldn’t do that either. Junko sits down again, and Mukuro stands there awkwardly like she wasn’t told what to do or say beforehand. She keeps looking back at the door, like someone is going to come along at any minute.  _ So, they haven’t neutralised everyone.  _ That seems like an oversight. “Look. I have some information I think you might wanna have, huh, Hinata Hajime?” 

Kamukura does not react to the name. It means nothing to him. Junko seems shocked, hair going crazy with the sheer force of how hard she tilts her head. “You don’t know?” She asks, like this is the most important thing in the world. “That’s your name.”    
  


“They called me Kamukura Izuru.” Kamukura’s eyes narrow, confused. Kamukura Izuru is the name given to him, so it must be his. What’s in a name, anyway? 

“Yeah, but it wasn’t always, was it?” Finally, Junko has Kamukura’s attention. He sits up again, a new curiosity getting the better of him. “Ah! That got ya, didn’t it?” She clasps her hands together. “You are Hinata Hajime! I bet you want to know why they’ve been doing this to you.”

“...I am sick.” Kamukura says, although he is starting to feel like there’s more to this than he had first thought, and that perhaps he has been duped. It’s just a feeling, though. “They are curing me. I am to be humanity’s hope.”

Mukuro moves over to watch the door again now that it seems that she’s not required to talk anymore. Junko looks absolutely miserable all of a sudden, expression darkening. “Is that what they told you?” She asks quietly, so quietly that Kamukura isn’t even sure that he would have heard her if his hearing wasn’t as good as it is. “Oh, Kamukura-san. You’ve been kept here for years, and you don’t even remember why they’re ripping you apart and slowly killing you. That’s so horrible. This is why we’re here- the moment we heard, all we wanted to do was help you. You don’t have any windows, you’re tortured daily, and I’ll bet they’ve never let you out.” 

What she’s saying is true, but Kamukura doesn’t care, he really doesn’t. Why would he? As Junko pointed out, he’s been here for years. He knows how things are. Why should he care for the world outside? He bets it’s just as boring as the world inside this room. He doesn’t want to leave, and they can’t make him. “I don’t care.” 

“Oh, look what they’ve done to you. I’m so sorry.” Junko reaches out and cups his jaw in her hand, and though he generally hates to be touched, he doesn’t care enough to stop her. He’s bored of this conversation now, he tells himself, and he does not care. He doesn’t. “It didn’t have to be like this. You were just a kid. I know it’s hard, to live your life thinking that it’ll never get better, but I promise you that it does. You just need to be willing to take the first step!” Something about the way that she talks sounds rehearsed, like she read it in a self help guidebook, but there’s nothing but sorrow in Junko’s eyes. 

“And what would you suggest this  _ first step _ to be?” Kamukura asks, bored and tired of this. He’s fluctuating at the moment, unable to hold his interest. He moves between being exhausted with the situation and painfully curious at a frightening pace that just tires him out, but there’s nothing he can do about it. This is just how he is, how he’s always been. 

“There’s a whole world out there.” Says Mukuro, and there’s an innocent wonder in her voice. This time, Junko lets her talk. It would seem that Mukuro knows more about this subject than Junko does. “You don’t feel much, do you? You’ve seen everything here and you know this place like the back of your hand but maybe you’d be a little less bored if you knew what you haven’t seen… Ahh, Junko-chan, show him!” On cue, Junko fishes her phone out of her bra, theatrically shoving her hand between her breasts. Kamukura looks away. 

Junko’s phone is pink and encrusted with rhinestones, and it’s smaller than the walkie talkies Kamukura has seen his handlers use. She taps some small clicky buttons and oohs and ahs, but Kamukura knows how it works. It’s hardly mysterious. Mukuro stares at him encouragingly, a kind smile on her face. She does seem to be the less egotistical of the two. “Look!” Junko sings, shoving the phone in front of his face. Kamukura recoils, going a little cross eyed as he looks at it. Hesitantly, he takes it from her. On the screen is a photo of the twins on what looks like a ferris wheel, and in the background is the world below them, a cityscape. It’s the most beautiful thing Kamukura has ever seen. “Keep looking.” Kamukura clicks the right button on the d-pad and finds that he likes the feeling of it. More photos of the twins appear, and even though the camera is admittedly not the best, it gets the point across. Despite himself, Kamukura is a little tempted. He is smart enough to know that there has to be a catch somewhere, that these girls want to use him somehow, but treacherously, a part of him doesn’t care. Wouldn’t it be interesting to see what that world is like? Would there be a place for him in it? Could he be allowed to exist outside of this facility? 

Kamukura comes to the end of the photos, and gives the phone back. He tries not to wonder where it’s been. It’s probably better that he doesn’t know. Junko puts it in her skirt pocket, confirming Kamukura’s assumption that storing it in her bra was entirely unnecessary. “Did you like what you saw?” She asks, and Kamukura is a little ashamed to admit that yes, he did. 

“What does a clock look like?” He answers the question with another question, and Junko hums, showing him the phone’s screen once again. It reads 21:47. Kamukura is overwhelmed with a surge of emotion that he didn’t know was possible, and Junko pokes her cheek with the tip of her long red nail, pouting as she lets him drink it all in. 

“Weeeeeell, that’s not the only type of clock. There are analogue clocks, too, the ones with the hands and stuff. Cogs, things like that. If you want, I know a great museum that has a whole room of ‘em.” It isn’t very interesting to her, but to Kamukura it means the world. He is quiet for a while, staring at the clock as it goes to 21:49, before finally looking up at Junko again. 

“What is in it for you?” Kamukura asks, because he feels that this question is an obvious but necessary one. “Why have you done this?” 

Junko sighs. She was expecting to be asked this, Kamukura knows she was. “I see myself in you.” She says. This… Throws Kamukura, just for a moment. He has no idea why she would see herself in him, because from his point of view, they could not be more different. “I’m boooooooored.” She says, suddenly sounding miserable. Kamukura hears it in her voice that she is not lying, because something like that is hard to imitate. “I’ve been, like, so tired of the world since the day I was born. I heard about you and I was like, I don’t want you to be like me. It’s so shitty what they’re doing here! You deserve better, and I’m gonna give you the fuckin’ world.”

Kamukura glances over at Mukuro. She isn’t looking at him anymore, just the open door. He overthinks it a million times, analyses the situation as much as he can, but eventually he stands quite suddenly, and Junko takes his hand in both of her own. “See, I knew you’d come around! Come on, come on, come on!” She cheers, and Mukuro breathes a sigh of relief. It seems like she had thought Junko wouldn’t be able to convince Kamukura, but Junko had never thought her plan would fail for even a second. “I’m gonna take you shopping! You need something better than that crappy hospital gown, and we’ll get you a cute haircut-” 

“No haircut.” Kamukura interrupts her, voice quiet but loud enough to be heard. Junko looks at him, blinks, then nods. 

“Alrighty! No haircut. Oh, you’re gonna look soooo cute.” She pulls him towards the door, and just like that, he’s outside of the room. 

Kamukura looks at the corridor, realising that he’s never seen it without being drugged out of his mind. It’s nothing that he wouldn’t have expected, but seeing it for real… It’s overwhelming. His eyes widen, and with each step he takes away from the room, he feels sicker and sicker until he feels like he’s going to throw up. He takes shallow breaths, staring down at Junko’s hand in his. He wants to claw her hand away, force her to stop touching him, but instead of doing that, he starts to move backwards, back towards his room. The walls are closing in on him. They’re going to find him outside, and they’re going to punish him for daring to leave. He wants to go back where it’s safe, where things will continue on as normal. His free hand balls into a fist into his long mousy hair- it comes down to his mid-back now and he’s bitten anyone who’s ever tried to cut it. “Huh?” Junko notices him moving backwards, a look of concern on her face. Kamukura doesn’t focus on her. He just tugs his hand away and starts to walk back to his room. He can’t do it. 

Junko looks at Mukuro for help, trying to get her to deal with this situation when she’s clearly so far out of her depth that she could never even hope to know what to do with him. Mukuro turns and stares at him, realising quickly how overwhelmed he is, then snatches Junko’s phone out of her hand. “Kamukura-san.” She says, voice soft like she’s trying to comfort a wounded animal, “It’s okay. You’re safe. Focus on the clock, okay? You don’t have to go back. I know it’s scary, I know you’re not used to it, but you’ll be alright. I believe in you.” 

Kamukura just feels queasy. He barely hears Mukuro’s words, just sees the phone screen held out in front of him. Mukuro tells him to breathe, in and out, in for seven seconds and out for eleven seconds, and it’s a miracle that it actually works. “Come on, that’s it.” Mukuro nods, smiling. “It’ll get easier, I promise you. We’re going to get you out of here, I swear. You’re going to be okay.” 

All the while, she leads him into an elevator, and Junko hits the button to go up. Kamukura makes a noise at the sudden feeling of movement, snapped out of it as he looks up. “It’s just an elevator, nothing to worry about.” Junko says, trying to copy Mukuro’s tone. It doesn’t quite work, and something just sounds so hollow. Kamukura breathes like Mukuro told him to, and tries to piece together what he knows of Enoshima Junko. Maybe she’s empty too. Maybe she’s just another creature trying to be a person. He would wonder why she bothers, but then, maybe she has to. Maybe she has no choice in the matter. 

There’s a loud ping! as the elevator stops, and the door opens. Kamukura still kind of wants to go back to his room, but Mukuro has started humming and it’s easy to listen to her, easy to follow the sisters out into what looks like a school after hours. None of the lights are on, but the light outside is decent enough to shine through the windows. 

Windows. Kamukura tries not to look too dangerously enthusiastic as he quickly stalks towards the windows and looks outside. The view is not overly impressive, but the sky is astonishingly beautiful. Junko joins him, hands on her hips. “You look like some kind of sad little waif with that hospital gown on, Kamukura-kun.” She takes a pack of bubblegum out of her pocket and pops some in her mouth. She offers some to Kamukura before she notes how oddly he’s looking at her. “It’s bubblegum, dummy.” Junko makes it sound like it should be so obvious. “You put it in your mouth and chew. Just don’t swallow, okay? God, it’s like talking to a child.” 

After a moment of consideration, Kamukura takes some bubblegum and puts it in his mouth. It tastes synthetic but not in a bad way, and it’s rubbery and sugary. It’s like ambrosia from the gods themselves, and he mimics Junko when she blows a bubble and pops it, obnoxiously loud. “See? Now you’ve got it.” She cackles, gently tapping his arm. She lets him look up at the pink sunset for a few more moments before she leads him towards the nearest open door and pushes him outside. Mukuro snickers as Kamukura looks straight up, trying to burn the sky into his memory so that he can keep it forever. The air is different out here, and Kamukura shivers at the slight wind that blows through his hair. He’s never experienced anything like this, and all he wants is more, more, more. “Pretty good, isn’t it?” Asks Junko.

Kamukura makes a noise that might well be an affirmative, but it's unclear. Junko shrugs, wandering off. “Come on.” She tells him, and Kamukura doesn’t really want to move but he understands that it’d probably be safer to get away from the school as quickly as he can, so he follows along behind her looking a little like a lost puppy. Mukuro falls in step behind him, and he doesn’t have to be a genius to know that she is staying behind the two of him to try to stop him if he considers attacking Junko. “Sooo! I’ve got plans tonight, what about you, Mukuro-chan?” Mukuro seems to know that this was a rhetorical question and doesn’t answer. Junko continues on. “We’re going shopping, Kamukura-kun. We need to get you some new clothes!” She leads them to a limousine and gets in, and when Kamukura turns back to glance at Mukuro warily, she gestures to him to get in. He’s curious as to how they think they can get away with what they’re doing if they’re going to make such a flashy escape. It hardly seems to be in and out clean, yet no alarms have been raised and they don’t seem to be panicking. He sits down in the limo, and doesn’t move when Junko shoves a stack of papers into his lap. 

He doesn’t ask her what they are. He could guess. He starts to read through the files in silence, reading the details of various surgeries performed on him. Most of it he doesn’t even remember, but all of it seems cruel and extreme. Kamukura wouldn’t say he’s shocked by the information. The further back he goes, he notices that there have been several omissions to the files, but when he comes to the first page, he finds what Junko had been talking about. 

_ Testing is to begin in one week. We are waiting for Hinata Hajime to sign the consent papers. He will not read them- this is to be expected. Once everything is in order, he will be expelled from the school and expunged from all records. His parents will be notified of his unfortunate disappearance. He is to have no contact with the outside world until the project reaches its conclusion. _

Hinata Hajime… So that’s who he had been. Kamukura is still, thinking for a few moments. He understands a little more who Kamukura Izuru is, but that’s not much. Kamukura Izuru is the final step in removing the identity of an exploited child and replacing it with a new one. He does not pity Hinata Hajime. Instead, he finds himself loathing him more than he had ever expected to. He keeps reading the files. 

_ Subject HOPE has apparently experienced anaesthesia awareness during the recent lobotomy. Sazaki-san claims that HOPE opened his eyes and stared up at the operating surgeons before being sedated further. The subject has exhibited signs of severe psychological distress in the past several hours and was unable to eat unaided due to extreme trembling. _

He doesn’t remember this, of course, but he doesn’t doubt that it happened. This must have been in the beginning, before he was himself. It confirms his suspicions that there was something that came before, but it doesn’t make him feel any better. Kamukura is pulled out of his reverie by Junko demanding the driver turn on the radio, and loud pop music fills the limo. Kamukura lifts his head, listening to it. He’s never heard anything like it. “Hmmm?” Asks Junko, invading his personal space once again. “Do you like the music? She’s in my class at school, you know! God, her solo stuff fucking sucks, but boy it’s catchy.” Kamukura looks at her, then stares at the city out the window. It’s so  _ big.  _ He’s hit, just then, with the scale of the world. There’s so much out there that he’s never seen, and now that he’s finally getting the chance to see it, he finds himself, for the first time in a very, very long time, caring about what’s going to happen to him. “You read your file, right, Hinata-kun?” Junko asks, and Kamukura isn’t really sure what to feel about being called by that name. 

He is not Hinata Hajime, but he is not Kamukura Izuru, either. He doesn’t want to be codenamed HOPE anymore, either. He doesn’t correct Junko, because there’s no point and nothing to correct her to, just nods. Yes, he read it. It was informative, but not particularly helpful. He knows she omitted quite a lot. He wonders if she added things, too. 

  
Junko snatches up the stack of papers and puts them on the ground just as the limousine comes to a halt. She gets out and drags Kamukura with him, and all of a sudden he’s overwhelmed by the crowd of people and blinded by the lights. “Welcome!” She announces in a comically theatrical voice. _ “To Shibuya!”  _


End file.
